


Kick My Shoes Off and Run

by Loracine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluffy Ending, M/M, Suicide Attempt, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 05:07:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14730528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loracine/pseuds/Loracine
Summary: This thing between Bobby and Rufus has been happening for a while. Bobby knows that what they have is casual, just letting off some steam in between hunts, but Rufus is interested in something more. Now, if only they could find their way out of this wonky maze of puzzles so that Rufus can convince the man he's serious.





	Kick My Shoes Off and Run

**Author's Note:**

> Artist: [askatosch](https://askatosch.tumblr.com)  
> Master Art Post: [HERE](https://askatosch.tumblr.com/post/174149139224/my-second-drawing-for-the-rpr-bang-2018-get-ready)
> 
> Written for the 2018 [Rare Pairs Rock](https://rarepairsrock.tumblr.com/) MiniBang.

 

**Part 1: Child’s Play**

_Home is the nicest word there is.  
-Laura Ingalls Wilder_

 

A few years ago, if someone had told Bobby that he'd be nursing a couple bruised ribs from a vamp hunt while en route to checking out a string of disappearances that looked to be caused by a pissed off housewife that had died last century, he would have laughed and asked which nuthouse they'd escaped from recently. Bobby stifled a groan as he shifted in the seat. His ass was numb, had been since Decatur. He was hungry too, but that was easier to ignore than the sensation of pins and needles that flared up whenever he managed to restore the blood flow by shifting his weight from one asscheek to the other. It wasn't the seating to blame for his current predicament. The vinyl upholstery, though as old as the pickup itself, was in good condition and the padding beneath it hadn't yet failed. No, the problem was that he and Rufus had been driving all day, since breakfast at daybreak.

"Will you quit," Rufus grouched from the driver's seat. He had three fingers on one hand deftly steering the pickup through the highway traffic and he was slouching a little with his shoulder propped against the door.

The light was waning, the sun fast approaching the western horizon, and soon it would be night. The days were short this time of year, though as spring approached, the sun would spend more and more time in the sky until the people on the earth below began to wish for the long, cold nights of winter, instead of the long, hot days of summer. It was chilly outside, chilly enough that his breath fogged on the inside of the glass when Bobby turned his head to watch the trees. He didn't see the point in explaining himself. Rufus knew very well exactly what was wrong. He knew all about the aches and pain that bloom on a long haul drive. On the way to their previous hunt, he'd been the one grousing about stiff joints and a sore tailbone.

Rufus pursed his lips, considering. He knew the route they were traveling rather well. "There's a Polish place near the motel," he offered.

"Can you eat Polish," Bobby asked. "I mean, isn't Polish basically all pork sausages?"

Rufus huffed and grumbled, "They got kosher beef, asshole."

"Well, alright then," Bobby replied with a smirk. At least dinner was going to be tasty, even if it was also going to be a couple hours late.

The job, this time, had taken them deep into the city. The western suburbs of Chicago didn't look much different from the urban jungle nearby, especially not the little village tucked up against Austin. There was just a bared teeth, bloody knuckle tone of aggression that had settled into the place, desperation persisting for far too long. The red brick apartment buildings and small two-story homes had started life in much the same fashion, and for a while, the two communities had prospered, side by side. The difference between Oak Park and Chicago's west side, however, was starkly obvious now. Sometime in the intervening years, Austin had been diminished. The decay started at the city limit, where posh suburbia and the Windy City were separated by a narrow two-lane road and it only got worse from then on out.

"Jesus," Bobby remarked, "This looks almost as bad as Detriot."

Rufus grunted. He couldn't argue with his assessment.

Bobby peered out of the window, watching the neighborhood slowly move past him as they drove on. "How far does this go," he asked.

Traffic was light this time of day. Rufus steered the pickup around a few cars waiting to turn left and a couple that had parked in the lane with their flashers turned on. When he finally spoke, his tone was that of a person remembering something that had happened a long time ago. "All the way to the river," he replied, "Not much has changed since I was last in these parts." It sounded like he was talking about a decent chunk of time.

The radio's volume was low, but the sound coming from the pickup's speakers filled the silence that followed Rufus' words. It was a pop music station playing a catchy but repetitive tune.

By the time Rufus was steering the pickup into a parking spot, the decay had given way to an outright graveyard. There were entire blocks where only one or two buildings remained standing. The old brick remnants of a store lay crumbling on the corner, looking like a pile of bones picked clean after the flesh had fallen off and rotted long ago.

The truck rocked a little on its tires when he slammed shut the driver's side door. He waited until Bobby was rounding the front of the truck, looping an arm around his shoulders. "Well, c'mon Princess. Let's see if they've got a room," Rufus told him.

The next morning, Bobby woke with a resounding thud to the floor. He blinked blearily at the strands of carpet smushed up against his cheek. This close, he could barely see the difference between the stains and what little clean carpet remained. It smelled ghastly, though, no matter which part of the floor was currently pressed up against the side of his face; a combination of stale beer, gym sock sweat, rotted fruit, and wet dog. He groaned and tried to roll over, but his shoulder hit the metal railing of the bed before the motion was completed.

A hand descended from the top, landing on the top of his head and groping downward.

"What the hell," Bobby complained loudly when a finger clumsily smashed into his nose.

Bobby hears his voice, more tenor than deep, long before he twists around to look up at his face. "What'cha doin' down there," Rufus asked. Bobby could hear the laughter in his voice. The man didn't care that he was practically poking a bear with a stick with his question.

Bobby scowled and grumpily replied, "I'm fixing my hair. Why? Wanna help?"

Rufus chuckled. "You getting back up here anytime soon," he pressed, hoping Bobby got the hint. There was plenty of time in the morning to start the case. No point in hurrying.

\-- < > \--

The gaming house owner possessed skin of a deep blue color that shimmered gold in the light. It was like the male had painted himself in latinum powder cream and, in the end, that was what drew Kretax to the gaming house. Once he got there, though, it was the towering gameboard shaped like a pyramid and made from pieces of a clear material reaching nearly to the ceiling at the center of the room that got him to step inside of Gojec's. He circled the seven tiers on his way to the bar, noticing the telltale signs that this massive decoration was likely much more than it seemed at first glance.

The male behind the bar, the one he'd seen from the promenade, tipped his frilled head in Kretax's direction as he settled onto a stool. "Welcome to Gojec's. My name is Gojec. What'll it be," he greeted.

Kretax didn't have to look up at the scrolling list to know what he was ordering. He traveled to this sector often for business and the locals made a wine from this little berry that grew in the swampy marshes of only one or two hospitable planets nearby. The flavorful and mildly bitter fermented juices were mixed with a brew that was very similar to mead but was actually made from the nectar produced by a very large beetle. The resultant liquor was nearly black in color but when mixed with the equally dark wine, made a bright purple beverage with an exquisite taste. He didn't hesitate to order it, the smooth syllables of the name rolling off his tongue in a way his own native language did not.

Gojec didn't look up until he was setting the concoction in front of Kretax, the bumpy ridge above his eyes rising attentively as the frills on his neck flared out to expose the brilliant coloration concealed in the folds.

Kretax paid the stated price and finished the first few sips of the drink before he remembered the large piece at the center of the gaming house. He tapped the bartop with the fingers on one hand to get Gojec's attention. "What sort of game is that," he asked as he pointed behind him.

Gojec's eyes lit up as he answered, "I convinced a Wadi to sell it to me after a spat of bad luck at the Dabo tables. It is called Move Along Home. Do you want to play it?"

"What are the rules," Kretax asked with interest.

Gojec had what could pass for a smile on his latinum flecked face when he replied, "You are required to learn the rules as you play. You begin with two or four players and all must make it to the end for you to win."

Gojec took the bag and inspected its contents. "That will be enough for two players," he said as he led Kretax over to the gameboard. He selected two pieces and set them on the lowest level. The game lit up in shades of blue and green. "First shap," he announced.

\-- < > \--

Bobby emerged from the little motel bathroom surrounded by a cloud of steam. It smelled like Irish Spring and Old Spice. He was feeling much more alert now that the night, and other things, had been washed from his body. The shaving kit made a muffled thud when he tossed it next to the TV, earning a stir from the lump still laid out on the bed. The sound of his shoes on the carpet as he walked across the room got another stir. This time Rufus turned over onto his back and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'coffee'.

Bobby snorted, figures the man would drop back to sleep as soon as he took his eyes off him. "Yeah. Yeah," he agreed. It was time he found two cups of that black brew they both enjoyed so much. The little machine in the room looked to be covered in a couple decades of grime. He hadn't even bothered to see if it turned on. Whatever would come dribbling out of that thing might smell a little like coffee, but he was afraid the grime would somehow reach critical mass and develop a mind of its own. With his luck. And, we all know how those stories go. This newborn sentient cup of coffee would try to kill him. Either that, or he'd contract tetanus just by standing in close proximity. No. As loathsome as the idea of having to actually go find his first cup of joe was, Bobby wasn't even the slightest bit tempted. 

He yanked open the door with a little more force than necessary. The full force of the mid-morning sun hit him in the face and he had to squint to see the car where he'd left it in the parking lot the night before.

Except...

When his eyes had adjusted to the brightness, Bobby was not seeing what he had expected to see. He blinked. Nope. This was definitely not what he'd seen last night.

He quickly shut the door.

Rufus grumbled again from the bed, "Find that coffee yet?"

Bobby was still staring at the door. "Rufus," he said.

There was a huff. "Come back to bed if you aren't going to go out," he offered, though he didn't move the blanket so Bobby could slide right in behind him.

"Rufus, you need to see this," Bobby said a little more forcefully. His eyes had widened with disbelief and the expression had frozen on his face. The chipped white paint of the door in front of him wasn't even registering. His gaze was still fixed beyond, to what he'd seen in that brief moment when he'd opened the door, even though he couldn't see it any longer.

The bed squeaked in protest as Rufus suddenly sat up with a scowl. He didn't argue, though. He just tossed off the bedding and swiveled to put his bare feet on the floor.

Bobby waited until the man had reached him before he opened the door.

"Holy mother of," Rufus exclaimed. He slammed his eyes shut and pushed the door closed at the same instant. "Warn a guy next time," he added.

"Did you see anything," Bobby asked, already knowing that the answer was 'no'.

The glare Rufus sent his way would have had anyone else quaking in their sneakers. As it was, Bobby just rolled his eyes. "Better open it again," he replied, sounding entirely unenthused about the whole thing. Whatever Bobby was going on about, Rufus wasn't in the mood for pranks before coffee.

This time Bobby opened the door slowly, starting with just a small crack to let the light in so their eyes could adjust.

This time Rufus got a good long look at what was beyond that shitty motel door. "Huh," he said as he took it all in.

The room was a brilliant white. Not only was it white, but it was the sort of seamless white that brought to mind words like 'creepy' and 'anal probe'.

Bobby whistled.

Rufus asked, "You sure there wasn't at least one cattle mutilation in the area?" Then he closed the door. "I need a shower before we get into this," he explained as he headed for the bathroom, stripping clothing as he went.

By the time he finished, Bobby had figured out a way to brew up some campfire coffee using a pair of paper cups and the microwave. It wasn't even good coffee, but the sludge was packed with caffeine and reasonably free of flesh-eating bacteria. Rufus seemed to agree because he swilled it down so fast Bobby doubted he'd even gotten a chance to taste it.

Rufus tugged on the two halves of his jacket, shrugging its warm weight onto his shoulders. "Let's do this," he announced before he yanked open the door and stepped through.

Bobby, cursing, hastened to follow, draining the dregs of his own coffee and tossing the used cup onto the floor on his way out. The door vanished behind them as soon as they both were through.

A little girl was playing hopscotch. The lines on the floor looked like they had been drawn in several colors of sidewalk chalk. Neither man recognized the rhyme she was singing, but her feet were moving at the same pace like she was dancing and each square would light up for a moment when she stepped on it. As she reached the far end of the oval path there was a shift, a popping sensation. There was a shimmering film floating between them and a door on the other side of the room, and the little girl's hopscotch game was taking her across the barrier and then back again.

She was singing.

"Halloweena Heckatee  
Couldn't brew a cup of tea  
The only potion she could brew  
Was wishy-washy mousetail stew"

Rufus walked up to the soap bubble, getting a real close look at the rainbow of colors. He side-eyed the little girl, pigtails swinging. The film didn't even shiver when she touched it. He reached out and his hand made contact with something solid. He got a fleeting sensation of something slick and smooth before he found himself slumped back against the wall which they'd come from.

Bobby was crouched down in front of him, saying something, but he couldn't quite make out the words.

Rufus checked the back of his head for damage, finding only his own unbroken flesh and short wiry hair. No blood. No bone fragments. Yippee. "Slow down, Bobby," he complained.

"You alright," Bobby worried.

Rufus fended off the mother-hen routine, but his glare was too soft around the edges to be genuine. "I'm fine you old goat," he replied. "That packed quite a punch. What the hell was it?"

Bobby settled his cap back on his head, looking very much relieved. There wasn't a visible mark on the other man. "You, uh," he started. He looked back over his shoulder. "There were sparks and you stiffened up. My ears are still ringing from the explosion that sent you flying over here," he explained. He didn't add that his heart was still trying to pound its way out through his breastbone or that his hands were shaking so bad right now that he wouldn't be able to hit the broad side of a barn with his gun until it stopped. Rufus had hit hard.

"Well, I'm fine now," he argued, even though his head was pounding. It took him a second to get to his feet, but he shrugged off any attempts Bobby made to help him. He wasn't an invalid. Not yet anyway.

The girl hadn't stopped her game. She was jumping on an endless loop, completely ignoring the other people in the room. Round and round and round she goes. With every shimmer of the barrier, Bobby tried to see everything she was doing, every spot her feet landed and every gesture she made with her hands.

"Halloweena Heckatee  
Couldn't brew a cup of tea  
The only potion she could brew  
Was wishy-washy mousetail stew"

Bobby had an idea. It was a crazy one, sure to end painfully. She never left the path, not even once. What if that was the key? He stepped closer to the hopscotch path, close enough that the toe of his shoe scuffed on the floor, smudging the chalk lines.

The one action, whether he'd done it on purpose or not, prompted the first change to occur since the pair had walked into this odd little room. The little girl stopped moving. She stilled in place and turned around to face Bobby. The look on her face was innocent with the open warmth of a young child. "Come with me," she beckoned brightly. She smiled wide, showing off a few gaps in her teeth. "Come with me," she repeated. She resumed her game before Bobby could recover from his shock.

"Halloweena Heckatee  
Couldn't brew a cup of tea  
The only potion she could brew  
Was wishy-washy mousetail stew"

One moment Bobby was following the little girl's bouncing pigtails down a glowing chalk path and the next Rufus was doing his own imitation of a mamma bear while Bobby was trying to figure out why his head hurt so much. "Balls," Bobby grumbled.

Rufus's fingers searched the back of Bobby's skull. "You good," he asked.

"Yeah," Bobby reassured him. He settled his hand over Rufus' other one, squeezed once and released him.

Once Bobby looked like he'd recovered, Rufus nodded once and stood. They needed to find a way out the room, away from whatever this was. No way was this a dream. He'd contemplated that from the first moment he'd seen a blinding white through their motel room door. The walls were smooth, no panel for him to pry open or any indication of a seam where the motel door had vanished. He watched the little girl's game as Bobby stepped up beside him. Bobby had proved that it wasn't the chalk that had carved a path through the barrier, and the little girl was not triggering a switch as she hopped around. No. She was doing everything exactly the same every single time around the looped hopscotch game. Exactly. The. Same.

"I know how to get us out of here," he announced like that one little statement wasn't something important.

Bobby tried to see what the other man was seeing, but he had no idea what it could be. "What are you thinking," he asked.

Rufus looked down at the chalk lines, biting his lip.

The little girl came around the bend, hopping towards him.

Rufus blew out a breath. He winked at Bobby, little gold hoops in his ears catching the light, and said, "Here goes nothing," before he fell into step behind her. He was one verse behind as he copied her every movement. He even sang the rhyme on key.

"Halloweena Heckatee  
Couldn't brew a cup of tea  
The only potion she could brew  
Was wishy-washy mousetail stew"

Bobby's jaw dropped when Rufus passed through that shimmering line without a problem. "Holy shit," he breathed.

Rufus rolled his eyes. "Get over here," he told him.

Bobby didn't waste much time after that. He felt foolish. He looked like a moron jumping about on a hopscotch path, but he swallowed his manly pride and sang his way through to the other side.

When they were together again on the other side of the barrier, there was a mechanical click and the door they'd been trying to reach slid open with a whoosh. The little girl smiled brightly and stopped her game. "Move along home," she told them before disappearing, along with everything else in the room.

Rufus dropped his stoic act long enough to give Bobby a brief kiss. There was a flash of triumph in his eyes, but the apprehension furrowing the corners of his mouth and in between his eyebrows was much more pronounced. With a pat to Bobby's flannel shoulder, he headed for the open door they'd worked so hard to reach.

Bobby touched his lips, wondering if he'd imagined what just happened. He pinched himself in the side, flinching at the sharp self-inflicted pain. Nope, he wasn't dreaming.

\-- < > \--

Kretax cheered as the scaffolding lit up in a rainbow of colors and the pile of latinum grew larger.

"Second shap," Gojec announced with a flourish. The male moved the two game pieces, one odd looking shoe and one flask, to the next level in the pyramid.

 

 

 

  
**Part 2: La Fee Verte**

_First you take a drink, then the drink takes a drink, then the drink takes you.  
-F. Scott Fitzgerald_

 

They were both through the door before they could change their minds. The hallway beyond was a dull grey with a speckled blue carpeting of the sort you see in hospital lobbies and office buildings. Dozens more doorways, roughly door-shaped half oval openings that were filled with the exact same material making up the walls. These doorways were staggered at regular eight-foot intervals along the walls. At least, they looked to be doors. None of them opened when the two men approached, and, despite a concerted effort, the few they attempted to pry open remained stubbornly closed fast. They could be decorative for all they knew, frames slapped up on a solid wall to throw the two men off the trail as they searched for a way out.

Rufus strayed over to his right and knocked on a few of the doors. The sound he got was hollow, like an empty tin can with the lid on tight, suggesting the possibility of rooms beyond each one, even though they were unreachable.

"We going to talk about this," Bobby asked. He was on the opposite side of the narrow passage, looking for buttons or handles or dials of any sort that could somehow lead to opening one of these featureless doors. With each failure to find a mechanism of any sort, he would move on down to the next one.

Rufus raised an eyebrow and deflected. "Talk about what," he asked, mystified as to what the other man could be referring.

"You kissed me," Bobby announced. "We never kiss."

"That's not true," Rufus countered, wracking his brain for some explanation for Bobby's claim. They kissed all the time. They'd kissed just that morning, lazy in bed after Bobby had picked himself up off the floor.

Bobby scoffed, incredulous. "Not when we're not fucking we don't," he replied. Just once he'd like to disgust an uppity religious nut with some PDA during breakfast at a diner or when shopping in the aisle of a supermarket.

Rufus stopped walking and looked at him. He couldn't fathom where this could be coming from or why Bobby was bringing it up now, of all times. He thought their relationship was exactly where the both of them had wanted it to be. "I prefer to call it making love," he deflected, waggling his eyebrows with a lascivious grin on his face.

"Is that so," Bobby said, unconvinced. He was feeling a bit foolish that he was getting all butt-hurt about this. Their arrangement was casual, limited to hooking up between hunts. Lately, though, he'd been getting mixed signals from Rufus. As a result, he had allowed his feelings to interfere with his objectivity.

Rufus gave him an odd look. "Seriously, where's this coming from," he asked. He was beginning to get the sense that whatever was going on in Bobby's head had not simply shown up this morning, or even overnight.

Bobby prodded the spot where a handle should be and, marking another door off the list, he crossed the corridor to check the next. "I... Rufus, you never mentioned wanting an actual relationship," he offered.

"Cause that's what I thought you wanted, you old curmudgeon," he blurted out, exasperation evident in his tone. Rufus was examining another door, but every few seconds he'd sneak a glance of Bobby. Bobby's back was turned to him, but he could imagine the man scowling as he worked.

Bobby opened his mouth to respond. He wasn't even sure what he was going to say, but he figured it would have been witty. He was reasonably sure of it, anyway. He didn't get a chance to reply. The familiar sound of a door whooshing open pulled their attention back to the task at hand. The blasted thing had moved on its own. Bobby hadn't done anything and he would never, in a million years, admit to the very girly squeak that came out of his mouth in surprise. He took a step back, cautious.

Rufus only took a beat longer to notice the movement. He hurried over, urgently asking, "What did you do?" He tried to get a look at what had been revealed but found that he was unable to discern the room beyond, like a piece of sheer cloth had been pulled over the opening, obscuring the room beyond.

Bobby stared at the spot on the door frame that he had intended to touch, finding it as blank as anywhere else. "Uh, nothing," he replied a bit confused. He was even more confused when the sounds of a number of people filtered out through the now open doorway. It was a reminder that, for the moment, there were more important things. Bobby leaned forward a little, listening carefully. "Huh," he uttered. Was that... laughter? Deciding he would have to table the subject of their not-relationship until after they figured out where the hell they were, he entered the room.

Rufus shrugged and followed him. There was no way he was letting the two of them get separated.

Inside, the room was startlingly different. It had been draped with huge ribbons of pink satin hanging from the ceiling in glittering puffy Pepto Bismol. There was even a cotton candy pink shag carpet covering the floor. The color pink had vomited all over the room and left chunks everywhere. Side by side, the two men steeled themselves for something truly awful. Bobby looked over at Rufus, giving him a meaningful look as if to say 'Are you seeing what I'm seeing?' after they saw the throng of people beyond the first set of ribbons. The people were all wearing clothing that appeared to have been spun from solid gold. Flowing dresses that trailed the floor. Cute little mini skirts barely covering the tops of creamy thighs. Pants that looked painted on rather than fastened. Loose shirts with frilly collars and sleeve cuffs of lace. All in a garish shining shade of metallic honey gold. And, every single one of them was laughing.

Rufus and Bobby stood out like sore thumbs in their drab flannel and faded denim, two rough looking humans. The people that surrounded them didn't look like people at all, not really. There someone a little off about the way they moved and the quality of their voices. Too perfect. It felt a little like Bobby had once imagined being on a movie set would feel like and it made his skin crawl.

To distract himself, Bobby asked Rufus, "Any ideas on what bug-a-boo this is supposed to be," not really expecting a useful answer.

"Weeping angel," Rufus offered.

Bobby scoffed. "Don't exist," he countered.

He came back with, "Fairies."

"No fairy rings," he dismissed.

"Zao Jun."

Bobby just looked at him, thinking that one had some merit. Yet... "Unless he's gone off the reservation, I doubt that deity would bother with a motel," he replied.

Rufus chuckled. "Well, use that big brains of yours, idjit, and come up with something better," he told him playfully. It was a game they often played, tossing out a bunch of improbable ideas until one of them actually sounded plausible. It had started when Bobby was new to hunting, his age no help at all in the face of everything he would need to learn to survive. When faced with a conundrum they each would blurt out the name for even the most obscure monster and follow it up with some reason why it didn't fit the pattern. They fell into the old game now just because it was fun and served as a comfortable distraction.

They stepped forward together, shoes sinking into the thick carpeting. The mingling crowd parted around them, clearing the way as they moved deeper into the room.

"Feels like the other shoe hasn't dropped," Rufus remarked.

"Yeah," Bobby agreed warily. There had to be a catch. "Figured out what's so damned funny," he asked.

"Nope," Rufus replied.

A man that looked to be a waiter due to the tray of wine glasses he carried gracefully skirted along the edges of the crowd and then weaved a path down the middle while partygoers exchanged their empty glasses for the filled ones on his tray. He was one of the few not laughing, besides themselves.

Bobby eyed the drinks the waiter was carrying with one lifted hand, fingers splayed beneath the tray. It seemed that no matter how many glasses were taken, there was always another in its place. What kind of magic was this?

Rufus was looking around them, sharp eyes scanning the perimeter. "You see a door," he asked Bobby. He couldn't spot the one they'd come through and the idea of getting trapped here was making him nervous. "This place is giving me the creeps," he added dryly.

"No kidding," Bobby agreed. "How long you think it's been?"

"A couple hours," Rufus figured.

It didn't take before that other shoe dropped. The men were occupied, but It started as a wisp of white fog crawling across the floor towards them. The bitter smell of it drifted to Bobby's nose long before the fog was twining around their ankles. Beside him, Rufus wrinkled his nose and Bobby had to agree. The smoke was a pristine ivory color, like a cloud that had been pulled from the sky. The stink, though, was, in a word, repulsive, like cat urine and rotted milk stinging their lungs.

Bobby could feel a tickle building in the back of his throat, a cough threatening, as tears began to spill over onto his cheeks. It was horrible. "Rufus," he said, trying to choke back the sensation.

The other man turned his way, eyes already bloodshot even though they were dry. He was blinking rapidly, breathing through his open mouth. He grabbed Bobby's hand and took the both of them to the very center of the crowd, where the smoke was thinnest. "We gotta get out of here," he announced, stating the obvious.

Bobby couldn't argue with his assessment. He'd been looking for a way out since the first door had closed behind them and disappeared into the wall. Things were a bit more urgent than they'd been a few seconds ago. No matter when he did, it was getting harder and harder to breathe.

Rufus was the first to give in, a cough exploding from his chest, as he finally gave in to the burning pain assaulting his nose and throat. It started out in short little bursts until he was letting out these great heaving gusts of air while his throat burned. No matter how much he coughed, though, he was only breathing the same shit back in.

Bobby followed soon after. He'd tried holding his breath and standing taller to reach cleaner air above the encroaching smoke. It was useless. The lungful he sucked in was just as caustic and he quickly succumbed. They were both choking on the thick smoke billowing around them. Bobby could barely breathe around his coughing, deep wracking spasms that were shaking his entire body. He was on his knees next to Rufus, spots forming in his vision. He grabbed the sleeve of the nearest man. "We can't breathe," he gasped.

The man had purple hair and was wearing a delicate filigree chain wound three times around his neck. He paused in his laughing to look down at Bobby. "Drink," he said joyfully and then resumed laughing, the sound almost maniacal since it didn't seem to stop, not even to breath.

"What," Rufus demanded. Whatever else he might have said was swallowed by a cough that nearly gagged him as he tried to talk through it.

Someone else, a woman with her hair twisted up into a silvery pile on top of her head, looked down at the pair. With a wide smile spreading the edges of her mouth, she took a careful sip of the carbonated pale green liquid in the glass in her hand. "Drink," she said.

"You are killing us," Bobby told her, but she'd turned back to her companions and he got no reply.

A woman in what looked to be a tuxedo sewn from shiny golden cloth walked by balancing another round golden tray of crystal champagne flutes filled with the same pale green bubbly liquid that everyone appeared to be drinking. There was a similarly dressed man across the room, his tray carrying a bunch of squat crystal goblets, and another weaving through the crowd to his left. There were waiters everywhere, enough to ensure that every hand had a full glass.

Yet another party-goer raised his glass. "Drink," he toasted merrily to the crowd and drained the remainder of his glass. A waiter arrived seconds later to offer him a fresh one.

"We can't breathe, asshole," Rufus wheezed out, his face scrunched up adorably in annoyance.

Bobby pulled his shirt up over his nose and mouth, hoping the material would provide some sort of protection against the poisonous fog. It didn't do a very good job, but it allowed him a moment or two in between each deep, wracking cough to look around for something better. A HAZMAT suit would be ideal. At the moment, he'd sell his right kidney for a pair of those, or a couple of gas masks. There was nothing near them that would do the job, though. He began to despair, thinking they were going to die on the Pepto carpet, and it would be all his fault. If he had just shut the door and ignored what he'd seen, maybe they would still be in the motel room rather than navigating this funhouse of horrors.

Bobby did notice something while he mentally berated himself for his stupidity earlier. He and Rufus were the only two people in the room not drinking. Everyone else at the party was laughing maniacally with glasses of different sizes and shapes, all with the same bubbly green drink in them. Even the wait staff were sneaking sips from the glasses on their trays, looking decidedly more jovial for a brief moment afterward.

Everyone was drinking. No one else was coughing.

No one else was coughing.

He had an idea. It wasn't a good one, mind you, but it was an actual, honest to goodness idea and it just might work. Bobby reached out to a passing tray. The waiter paused long enough for him to get his fingers around the stem of a goblet before moving on and vanishing into the crowd.

"Bobby," Rufus hissed, "now is not the time."

"Now's the perfect time," Bobby replied, but he didn't have time to explain further. He was pretty sure they were both going to pass out soon if their breathing didn't improve. He didn't have time to be hesitant or cautious. He took a big swig of the fizzy green stuff, swallowing so fast that he barely tasted the slightly sour fruity tang. It tasted kind of like a sour apple, with fur, and soothed the burning in his throat better than lozenges ever had. He took a deep breath, relieved to find that the air was now almost floral in nature. Bobby welcomed the change with a smile.

Meanwhile, Rufus was still hacking up a good chunk of his lungs. He hadn't noticed the change in Bobby, not until the man shoved the glass of bubbly brew beneath his nose and demanded that he, "drink," with a measure of urgency in his voice normally reserved for moments when the big bad is bearing down on them and his gun has jammed, like that time in Mississippi neither of them would ever talk about again. He looked over at the other man sharply, ready to remind Bobby about his general dislike of fruity cocktails. That one gay bar in Thermopolis didn't count. Hell, nothing in that entire town ever happened. Got it? The retort died on his tongue, though, because Bobby was no longer coughing. He looked good, rosy-cheeked and healthy. What the hell?

Several golden-clad people, including one waiter, happily reminded him to, "Drink," in unison, like it was the best idea since sliced bread.

Rufus scowled.

Bobby grabbed him by the upper arm and shoved the goblet under his nose. "Damned idjit," he groused. "Drink the blasted stuff before you die of an aneurysm." He wrapped Rufus' fingers around the delicate crystal.

"Admit *cough* it. You'd *cough* miss me. *wet hack* I'm one handsome *cough* *wheeze* devil," Rufus snarked with a grin, his white teen shining in the light.

Bobby muttered something likely uncharitable as he guided the glass to Rufus's lips and tipped it up so that a little dribbled into his mouth. "Don't be stubborn," he reminded the other man and poured the remaining liquid into his mouth all at once, giving him a choice between choking and swallowing it down.

Rufus rolled his eyes, but he swallowed. Immediately, he began to feel better. It was easier to breathe and the rasping ache at the back of his throat was a little less harsh. So, he took in more, letting the last dregs in the goblet swirl around his mouth and settle against the back of his throat before taking it in. The sensation was heavenly, the blessed relief of a cube of ice on overheated tissues.

Bobby hauled him to his feet. "Better," he asked, though he didn't wait for a response before he started walking for the door that had opened up for them.

Rufus grunted and followed, letting the other man take point for now.

The last thing they heard before the door closed behind them was the crowd shouting all at once, "Move along! Move along home!"

\-- < > \--

The crowd went wild as the pyramid lit up in another flash of rainbow colors and a handful of latinum bars were added to his pile.

Kretax felt genuine pleasure at the sight. He wasn't thinking about the things he could buy with such wealth. No, he was imagining a pile of latinum so large he could sleep in it. He was so caught up in the fantasy that he almost missed the instructions for the next phase of the game.

Gojec had to say it twice, but the second time Kretax heard him ask, "Which path will you take?"

"What are my choices?"

"Take the shortcut all the way to the end; double the danger to your players and double your winnings. Or, continue on the safer route, the slower route," Gojec said.

Kretax looked up at the game pieces and then down at the latinum, his latinum. Greedily, he imagined what that pile would look like twice its current size. He didn't hesitate long before making a decision. "I'll take the shortcut," he said.

The male moved the game pieces up to the next level. "Third shap," he exclaimed.

 

 

 

 

**Part 3: The Hall of Teeth**

_The whole point of getting things done is knowing what to leave undone.  
-Oswald Chambers_

 

This time the walls of the tunnel around them were made of rough rock. Its surface was gritty, streaks of wet dirt coming off onto his palms while he was looking for yet another way out of this nightmare. Recent experiences told both men they wouldn't like what they'd find next. Even so, they searched for any sort of passageway. They'd never get out of this twisted funhouse if they didn't at least try and it looked like the only way out was going to be through.

It didn't take long for the grime to build up on the skin of their palms and the sleeve cuffs of their flannel shirts. Rufus tried and failed to wipe it off onto his pant leg, succeeding only in smearing dirty streaks over the denim of his jeans as well as the rest of his hand. His face screwed up into a look of disgust as he tried to clean both his hand and his clothing in vain. Showers with soap would clearly be the first item on the agenda once they escaped. The muddy smear transferred nicely onto the cover of a small notebook Rufus pulled from his back pocket. It blended with the old dirt already decorating the cheap leather. He started writing on a page about halfway in, the lined paper crinkling as he wrote. "What have we noticed so far about this bastard," Rufus prompted.

Bobby huffed, thinking. His tone was a little sharp when he said, "Squat," his frustration showing.

"Not true," Rufus replied quickly. "We know that it either likes to play with its food or that it doesn't eat humans."

Bobby stuttered for a second, caught off-guard, "Well, um..." Then he blushed, the space under his eyes and the tip of his nose turning bright red. Dammit. He should have got that one. It seemed obvious now that Rufus had mentioned it. "Um. It can create illusions," he added.

Rufus's expression brightened for a moment into one of mirth. "Or," he prompted.

Bobby thought for a second and then said, "Or, it can teleport." He wasn't liking that thought. It meant they could be literally anywhere and not just wandering around their motel room, tricked into thinking they were elsewhere.

"Anything else," Rufus asked.

"I don't think it's evil," Bobby said. That didn't mean whatever beastie had gotten hold of them was strictly benevolent, but there was a certain feeling of menace he'd begun to notice when facing something truly evil.

Huh. Rufus hadn't considered that, but, when he thought about it, Bobby was right. This thing certainly had plans for them, but whatever motivations involved seemed to be more neutral than malevolent. "Alright then," he said. He looked over the paper once more, knowing there had to be sort of pattern to the information he'd written down but found nothing familiar. He nodded and returned the notebook to his back pocket.

It wasn't more than a few feet further down the tunnel that the two men found their next trial. Bobby was beginning to think of these rooms as puzzles. The doorway was a hole in the rock, just to the side of where the tunnel stopped at a dead end. The hole was small enough that both men would have to stoop to enter and the opening was full of jagged edges like the cut was new and time hadn't been given the chance to smooth the sharp edges. He paused before stepping inside, apprehensive about what they would now face.

Bobby didn't like the look of the room even before he stepped foot inside. In fact, the only reason he got even a toe in was Rufus pushing him from behind. He'd much rather go back the way they came and look for another option. But, Rufus was forcing him forward urgently, almost too fast to keep his footing. "Rufus," he snapped, but he didn't get much else out due to the sounds that were coming from behind them. It was canine and it didn't sound anything like Bobby's faithful junkyard dog Rumsfeld, more terrifying than a rottweiler, no matter how ferocious, would be able to generate. Bobby had been hunting long enough to be able to tell the difference. This sounded like a wolf, a big one, and it was far too close for comfort.

"Ho-ly Shit," Rufus breathed with a bit of fear in his voice, thinking that this was just a bit too elaborate for a little local dimensional disturbance or a wet-behind-the-ears teenager dabbling in witchcraft. He got the both of them through the door, though, too afraid it would shut between them and he'd lose Bobby in this place forever to be more cautious. The door snapped shut behind them, effectively cutting off the beast's approach. They could hear it growling still, snuffling at the rock and testing its strength with massive paws.

The scene before them was bizarre at the very least. It was like someone had shoved a bunch of sticks straight into the ground, only there didn't seem to be a ground that either of them could see. Rufus inched his way towards the ledge and nudged a pebble off the edge. He held his breath as he waited for it hit the bottom.

And waited.

And waited.

Rufus opened his mouth to say something and was silenced by a stern, "Shhh," from Bobby. It echoed, bouncing off the stone walls.

Finally, Bobby sucked in a lungful of air. He'd been straining his ears hard to listen for the sound of the pebble hitting the ground. He hoped he'd missed it or that there was something soft for the thing to land on. Sand maybe? Anything to explain that silence would be preferable to the terrifying, impossible possibility he was facing now. "I don't think there's a ground," he remarked grimly.

"That's not possible," Rufus replied as he leaned over to get a look for himself. "Any ideas what we're s'posed to do here," he prompted, not wanting to be the one to say what they were both obviously thinking.

The wolf growled low and Bobby felt the vibration of it in his bones. Both men looked behind them nervously.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking," Bobby asked.

"If you're thinking we need to reach that little hole all the way up there before furry finds a way in here, then yes," Rufus replied, pointing to an opening on the opposite wall near the top of the room. With the threat of death by gravity between them and the only other way out of there, they didn't have much choice but to navigate the puzzle.

The stone behind them shook, shedding dust and debris but held.

"You wanna go first," Bobby asked, gesturing to the abyss at their feet. The stone wasn't going to last forever against the wolf's onslaught. The beast was pounding steadily on it now, seeking to batter its way through to get to them.

Rufus nodded. "You first. If that thing gets in here, I'm the better shot," he told him with his hand resting on his gun, reassuring himself that he still had it.

Bobby scowled but didn't argue. He lingered long enough to clutch Rufus's shoulder warmly, a pale shadow of the embrace he would rather offer, before he turned his attention to the rest of the cave. He identified the nearest stone platform and tried to judge the distance. It didn't look too far, maybe only seven or eight feet. He figured, if he added a little extra momentum, he would just make it. He took a few deep breaths to psych himself up and then made a running leap, hoping he wouldn't end up falling short of the mark. There was barely enough room for his own two feet and he could easily miss. Bobby was almost surprised when his feet landed on a solid surface rather than thin air.

Rufus was too stunned to stop him and pure terror gripped him as he watched Bobby hurl himself over the chasm towards a target no bigger than the average elevator in square footage. "You asshole," he yelled. He had one hand clutching his sternum, trying to will his pulse to slow from its frantic tempo. "This has got to be the dumbest thing you've ever done," he added for good measure.

As soon as Bobby landed, the room erupted into motion. Some of the pillars were revealed to actually be large square boulders as they rose high up into the air. Each found its own elevation, creating a multi-layered maze leading up to the door. "Well, it worked, didn't it," Bobby replied smugly as he looked up at the stones now hovering above his head.

"Tell that to my heart," Rufus grumbled. It was racing and he could still feel his pulse in his throat.

The beast was pushing on the stone again, trying to somehow dislodge it from its place covering the doorway they'd entered. Dust and small pieces of rock scattered on the floor.

Bobby took off his cap and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his flannel as he looked at the next stone. There was only one close enough, even though it looked to be to nearly ten feet away. If he made the jump head first, he could try to grab the edge and pull himself up. "If I don't make it," he started, thinking there was a fair chance he'd fall to his death in the attempt.

Rufus quickly cut him off, unwilling to even consider the possibility. "You're making it. I'm making it. We're both getting the hell out of here," he insisted stubbornly.

"Then follow behind me," Bobby replied. They had to keep moving.

The makeshift stone door shook again and, this time, there was a grating sound of stone upon stone.

"Rufus," he called out, "Jump now!" Then Bobby jumped. He knew that, without the space to get a few running steps, he would likely fall far short of his goal. He feared was going to find out just how far down the bottom of this cave lay, after all.

A mighty crack formed in the stone, sending shards flying. Rufus felt the shockwave hit his back, and he didn't dare turn around to check if the stone had held or if it was now sitting in pieces. "Bobby," Rufus yelled, "Goddammnit!" He leaped, hurling his body onto the nearest stone without pausing to check the distance. He wouldn't let the other man leave him behind. When his feet touched down safely, he sighed in relief. He was feeling even better when he looked up to find that Bobby was looking a little green but that he too was safe. It was all Rufus could ask for.

Bobby chuckled, elated that he'd made the leap almost comically easily. For a second there, he had been worried that he would overshoot his target. "Quit yer grouching," he scolded, "I'm fine."

The stones were moving again. Some rose up a little higher and others sunk lower by a few feet. Both men found that their next move had to be re-evaluated. From then on, their time was spent following much the same pattern. With each new leap Bobby made, the puzzle was realigned itself, making it extremely difficult to plan ahead. Even as he drew nearer to the opening by the ceiling, it seemed like it was only getting further away. Bobby looked up to the stone where Rufus stood, ten or twelve feet above him where it had moved after the last jump. There was a pattern to the stones. Rufus had a real chance to find out what was in that dark hole in the wall. "One more," he called out to the other man. Bobby hoped to be right behind him.

Bobby held his breath as Rufus' feet left the stone, hurling his body through the air. It wasn't the width of the jump that scared him, it was the height. Even though the two of them were bouncing around like men on the moon, there looked to be fifteen or twenty feet of height that Rufus would have to gain in addition to the horizontal distance between the two stones. It was by sheer force of will that he kept his mouth shut, kept the words pleading for Rufus to be careful from being voiced. It wasn't the most dangerous jump made in the last few minutes, but that one had only been saved by a death grip on the rough edge and sheer will, if only for a few seconds. That had really hurt.

Rufus' fingernails scratched at the side of the stone as he plummeted down, leaving a thin line of red for every finger on both of his hands. He had missed his mark. He'd never even touched the top of the stone.

Bobby screamed, "Rufus!" There was a jackhammer behind his ribs. No. No. No.

Rufus never made a sound, not when he was leaving bloody streaks on the rough grain, not when his hands found nothing to grab for and he was free falling.

Bobby would never forget the wide-eyed look of horror on the other man's face as he fell, Bobby's whole world falling with him. Bobby didn't have much else to live for without Rufus there to pester him, except revenge, and he'd pretty much given up on that a while back. He never heard Rufus hit the ground. It didn't matter much anyways. He closed his eyes, stepped off the edge, and followed him down. He'd find out soon enough what that ground was made of.

 

\-- < > \--

 

Two dirty humans in weird looking garments appeared in the gaming house, landing in an unconscious heap on the floor and leaving bloody spots on his tiles. Gojec's expression was unreadable as he clapped his hands together once.

The pair disappeared.

"Who was that," Kretax wondered.

"I'm sure I don't know," Gojec replied.

The game pieces had vanished from the board, reappearing toppled on their sides at the bottom of the pyramid where they slowly crumbled into dust and vanished. Kretax frowned. The board had gone dark, the colorful lighting winking out all at once. It wasn't the reaction he had been expecting. There should be more revelry, sound effects, latinum. Hey, wait a minute. "I won," he asked, sounding unsure.

Gojec tipped the latinum into the pouch at his waist. "You lost," he replied.

"That's not possible," Kretax exclaimed.

"Game rules. Both of your players must make it safely home. Neither did," he told him.

The crowd dispersed, moving back to their own amusements now that the show was over.

Kretax was loud and very demonstrative as he protested the loss of the latinum. His kind were known to be unnaturally attached to the stuff.

Gojec returned to his spot behind the bar, putting the latinum in the safe beneath the counter. He really needed to get his brother to take a look at that game. There was no telling what it would do the next time it malfunctioned, or who it would claim as players. He hadn't recognized those strange garments the humans had been wearing and he was pretty sure there weren't any humans on board at the moment. He had no idea where they had come from.

 

 

**Part 4: Move Along Home**

_Love is not altogether a delirium, yet it has many points in common therewith.  
-Thomas Carlyle_

 

The hunt had been a bust. Sure, the housewife story had been true, but the place was clean. Not one whiff of ghostly activity in the house. The disappearances had been mundane in nature. The building had been left unoccupied for so long that the local filth had moved in, in droves. Those that survived the general disrepair failed to escape the substances they were putting into their own bodies. Narcotic overdoses were staggeringly high in the area and could be blamed for the vast majority of the deaths the two men had been investigating.

Rufus had been uncharacteristically quiet since their strange experience and they'd parted ways not long after the case was finished, Bobby to his junkyard and Rufus to his cabin in the woods. Nearly two weeks had passed before Bobby packed a bag and started driving. They hadn't spoken at all and the silence from the man he loves was starting to worry him. He knew that Rufus had been upset the moment he found out Bobby had jumped after him. It didn't matter that they both had somehow survived the fall. His fury made that quite clear after Bobby had slipped up and told him. Now, though, Bobby was standing in front of his cabin door, a little unsure of his welcome. Maybe the man still needed some time to cool off.

He balled up his fist and knocked on the solid wood door, three times.

He could hear noises coming from inside shortly thereafter. A mug set down on a table. The legs of a chair scraping on the floor. Quick steps heading for the door. The lock clunked before the handle was turning. The hinges squeaking as the door swung open.

Rufus looked tired. The space beneath his eyes was puffy, and Bobby knew there would be purple bruising there as well if the man's coloration wasn't so damned useful in concealing the evidence. Rufus looked about as crappy as Bobby felt and, even though both men were hurting, the idea that they were both in the same sorry state was comforting. He hadn't been sleeping very well either. Finally, Rufus grunted a greeting, looking neither welcoming nor unhappy to see him. It was a start.

Bobby held up a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue, a peace offering that he hoped would smooth over a few rough edges between them. The other half of his plan with the cooler in his other hand holding ziploc bags filled with leftover chili from the freezer, his own recipe. "I brought lunch," he explained.

Rufus's expression brightened and he nodded. He let Bobby inside the cabin, leaving the door wide open as he moved to the kitchen to fetch a pair of bowls from the cabinet and spoons from the drawer by the sink. The bowls were chipped along the rim but they were deep enough that Bobby didn't think he would need to heat up a second helping.

Bobby filled both bowls and set them in the microwave to heat. The whirr of the microwave filled the small kitchen.

Rufus poured two tall glasses of milk from a carton he found in the refrigerator. "I, uh, I want to do this 'us' thing more often," he blurted out.

It took a moment for the implications to sink in. At first, Bobby had no idea what 'us' meant and the microwave dinged before he could shake off the shock enough to reply.

Rufus seemed to take it all in stride, dropping a spoonful of sour cream and a hefty sprinkling of cheddar cheese on the steaming chili before taking his bowl and glass to the little round table taking up space just past the counter. It was a tight enough squeeze that, truly, only two people could sit at a time, and, if someone needed to get through, those two people would be knocking elbows to leave enough space for a walkway between the kitchen and his sorry excuse for a couch.

Bobby set his own meal down, settling into the chair next to him a little closer than strictly necessary.

It was a full five minutes before Rufus realized that the other man hadn't eaten a single bite.

Bobby kept looking between his own bowl and Rufus like he was expecting to find the secret of life stashed somewhere nearby. He yanked the other man close and kissed him thoroughly. It was a kiss worthy of Romancing the Stone, equal parts passion and desperation. When they parted, he breathed, "Us?"

Rufus was at a loss for words. He just sat there with his mouth hanging open, like an idiot, struck dumb. That had been some kiss. Then his face broke out into a slow smile. "Yeah," he replied, "You and me, Bobby."

"It's about damned time," Bobby grumbled, but he didn't resist when Rufus dove in for another kiss, or when the other man nudged him in the direction of the tiny bedroom in the back.

What happened next?

Well, that's personal.

Idjits.

**Author's Note:**

> The girl's song is a children’s hopscotch rhyme. The weeping angels are a reference to Doctor Who. Zao Jun is a Chinese kitchen god that protects hearth and family. PDA is short for public display of affection. The last puzzle in the stone room was inspired by a scene in the movie Golden Child (1986) starring Eddie Murphy and the beautiful Charlotte Lewis, as well as the first Tomb Raider (1996) MS-DOS computer game.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
